


doctor's orders

by fall_into_life



Category: Persona 5
Genre: F/F, Medical Kink, Questionable Medical Studies, Undisclosed Medical Substances, look if you played takemi's route you know what's going on here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-28 18:45:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19400155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fall_into_life/pseuds/fall_into_life
Summary: Sadayo gets called in to work at a certain doctor's office. This does not go as anyone planned.





	doctor's orders

**Author's Note:**

> Tagging this was dreadful and I gave up. If you've played Takemi's route, you are prepared for this fic.

Sadayo's weirdness senses start tingling from the second she steps out of the company car. 

First, it's at a doctor's office. She double- and triple-checks the address, biting her lip. The lights are all on, the door is unlocked, and she can kind of see a silhouette at the front desk, so she walks in. 

“Hello, M--Mistress!” She catches herself at the last second. The person behind the glass is definitely a woman. A gorgeous woman, at that. Akira did not warn her about that. 

“Oh, hey,” says the woman behind the glass. There's a sly look to her, one Sadayo knows all too well. She doesn't often get women who want the “special services”, but when she does… well. She's never had a complaint.

“Come on in.” The woman - Dr. Takemi, says the plaque - buzzes Sadayo in to the exam room. 

Sadayo lingers on the threshold, wondering if this is really such a good idea. Then she catches a glimpse of light off Akira's glasses, takes a deep breath, and walks in. 

Most nights the maid outfit feels like armor. Every so often, it makes her feel exposed, open, completely bare to whatever client manages to see right through her. Takemi sees through the outfit, right down to the bone. 

“Becky,” Akira says, glasses angled so she can't see through them. She hates whoever taught Akira that; it's so damned annoying.

“Master!” Sadayo says, playing dumb. “Are you the one who requested me?” 

Takemi clears her throat, sitting down at the desk. “No, that was me.” She taps her clipboard, smiling, “I hear very good things about your services.”

Sadayo brazens right on through it. “Thank you, Mistress!” She curtsies, doing her best to project ‘dumb maid’ energy. She doesn't know what Akira was thinking, recommending her to come here, but she's going to get right back out. 

“I also hear,” Takemi says, “that you'll do just about anything for a nap.”

Tilting her head, Sadayo projects even harder. “Oh? Does Mistress want my special services?” 

Takemi chuckles. Next to her, a smirk touches Akira's lips.

“No,” Takemi says. She taps a glass full of thick green liquid on the desk. It jiggles. “If you drink this, you can sleep for the next two hours. No cleaning, full fee.”

Sadayo eyeballs the glass. Takemi is gorgeous, and Sadayo doesn't think Akira would deliberately put her in danger… but also this is a big goopy glass of something medical. Something Takemi hasn't explained, and Sadayo is really sure she's not going to.

“I'll double your money,” Takemi smiles, putting a stack of yen on the desk. 

Exclamation points erupt in Sadayo's head. 

“Give me the drink, Mistress!” 

It looks much worse up close. Sadayo shakes it a little in her hand. It jiggles again. The smell coming up from it is a mix of her mother's herbal remedies and something she can only think of as “medical”. Takemi nudges the money with the tip of her pen, making it scritch across the desk. Sadayo downs the drink in one gulp. 

Warmth spreads through her body, faster and hotter than any sake she's ever had. Sadayo stumbles over to the exam bed, just about collapsing on it. She manages to get herself laid down in a position that won't spell disaster when she walks up - and she's so, so sleepy - before her eyelids drag down. 

The last things she sees are the glint of Akira's glasses, and the sheen of Takemi's smile. 

[*] 

Waking up doesn't feel anything like sake, thankfully. She's got a bit of a cramp from the way her leg was sitting, and she's going to have to dry clean her outfit, but she feels pretty good. Her mouth tastes weird, but she's had worse.

“You're awake.”

Sadayo sits up, rubbing her eyes. “Yes, Mistress!” 

Takemi slides into her space, tip of her pen lifting up Sadayo's chin. “Hmm. Pupils normal, breathing regular.” Sadayo hears the scratch of pen on paper, and glances over to see Akira writing something down on a clipboard. Takemi's fingers - surprisingly warm - turn Sadayo's head back front and center. 

Those same fingers press down onto the inside of her wrist. “Pulse within normal range. How do you feel?” 

“Wonderful!” Sadayo smiles wide. At the measuring look in Takemi's eyes, Sadayo slumps a little. “Less tired.”

“That's it?” Takemi sounds almost disappointed. 

Sadayo nods. “Yes, Mistress.”

Takemi hums, and steps backwards, out of her space. “That's all, then. Your car should be here soon.”

Before Sadayo can ask any of the questions buzzing in her mind - first and most fervent: what the hell? - her phone vibrates in a pattern telling her the company car is waiting outside. Takemi buzzes her back out, and Sadayo leaves without any answers. 

[*] 

Maybe it should be a surprise when they call her back in a week, but it isn't. Akira acted perfectly normal in class the entire time, but a part of Sadayo had been waiting for this, waiting for a request to the back alley doctor.

This time, the liquid is blue, and the money sitting on the corner is three times her normal fee. Takemi nudges the glass over, Akira studies her with unreadable eyes, and Sadayo drinks the goop. 

It hits her just as hard as last time, and she collapses into the exam bed. Her body relaxes, her eyes close, and she passes out with medical jargon ringing in her ears. 

[*] 

“You're awake.”

Sadayo sits up.

Much like last time, she's less tired from the nap, and a little stiff. Takemi steps forward, and that pen lifts Sadayo's chin. 

Is this what her life is going to be, now? A gorgeous doctor and an underage student drugging Sadayo to within an inch of her life for a couple hours on the weekends? There are worse things, Sadayo decides as Takemi goes down the list from before, Akira obediently recording everything. She just hopes the money keeps going up.

“I'd like to take some blood,” Takemi says blandly, moving towards the desk. 

“Oh, Mistress, I couldn't,” Sadayo says, heart thudding in her throat. She struggles to find a way to say what she means, then gives up. “I can't have puncture marks when I go see other clients, you know.”

Another stack of money joins the first, doubling her already tripled fee. Sadayo jolts upward.

“But if Mistress insists!” 

The blood draw doesn't hurt, and the single vial Takemi takes barely makes a dent in Sadayo's new energy. The doctor smooths a small bandage over Sadayo's arm with steady hands, and sets the blood on her desk. 

“That's all for tonight,” Takemi announces. 

Sadayo narrows her eyes. “What is this for?” 

Takemi chuckles. “Don't worry about it. Isn't that your car?” 

Sadayo's pocket vibrates, and she knows perfectly well they'll leave her if she doesn't hurry outside. She really doesn't want to take the train all the way back in this outfit. 

She gives Takemi her best ‘unamused teacher’ look on her way out. Laughter follows her all the way to the car. 

[*] 

The third time, Sadayo puts her foot down. 

“Is this going to kill me?” 

It's not that she didn't care before. She did. At the same time, the maid service would investigate what happened to her, for their other employees if not for her, and Akira is here. She's not sure that's enough of a safety net to stop this back-alley doctor from doing what back-alley doctors (supposedly) do, but it was enough for her to drink two disgustingly thick glasses of something. But now the money went up again, the new glass is a deeper green than the first, and Sadayo wants answers. 

“Probably not,” Takemi says, waving a hand. “Fatigue aside you're in good health, and this was made for sick people. Your system should absorb it just fine.”

Sadayo was not born yesterday. “Should?” 

Takemi shrugs. “Even mainstream medicine has a small chance of killing you.”

Sadayo doesn't like that she has a point. 

“Anyway,” Takemi says, pushing the glass forward, “you should like this one a little better.”

Whether she likes any of this or not, it's a lot of money sitting on the table, and there are still records of her coming here and a witness. If she gets sick, she can always sue. Sadayo picks up the glass with one last glance at the money, and gulps it down. 

It takes a few minutes for anything to happen. Akira and Takemi watch her closely the entire time. Her stomach warms up first, spreading slowly out to her arms and legs until even her toes, pinched in her maid shoes, feel nice and relaxed. She gets to sit on the exam table rather than falling onto it, letting out a small sigh. 

“How do you feel?” 

Sadayo rolls her head from side to side. She thinks about playing up the maid angle for a second, but lets it go. She doesn't need it. 

“Really good.” Are her words slurred? “Really, really good.” Her words are slurred. Oh, well.

Takemi's mouth slants in amusement. “You're high.”

“If I am it's your fault,” Sadayo says. That's not what she means to say, but whatever. 

That startles a real laugh out of the doctor, and a snicker from Akira. 

“That's true,” Takemi says. “Why don't you lay down?” 

That's a great idea. Sadayo really likes that idea. She lays down, sprawling herself out on the exam table. Her dress is riding up. Oops.

“You're really high.” Takemi leans over the table. 

“You're really hot.” Oops again, that was supposed to stay internal. 

Another real laugh, and Takemi leans back. Sadayo lets herself drift down into sleep. 

[*] 

Sadayo's first real thought on waking is that she's about to feel terrible. She has, after all, a very bad history with falling asleep either drunk or high and waking up with a screaming headache. It's one of the few consistent things in her life, even if the drinking and such isn't itself consistent. 

Somehow, even after she blinks herself awake and sits up, she feels fine.

“Hmm,” Takemi says, standing and moving in closer. “How are you feeling?” 

She opens her mouth to spew out more maid talk. Takemi raises an eyebrow before she can even start. Sadayo narrows her eyes, but keeps her voice normal. “I feel great.”

And she does. She's not still high the way she was, but she had two hours of good sleep and no pain at all. She hadn't even known she was in pain, but now she's not in any. 

Takemi steps in between Sadayo's legs casually, setting down her clipboard. One hand wields the pen as she moves Sadayo's head this way and that, reporting to Akira. The other sits on Sadayo's knee. Through the whole exam it goes unremarked on, just something Sadayo can't help but be aware of. Her hand is warm, and just a little calloused on the thumb. 

At the end of the exam, Takemi steps away, taking her touch with her. Sadayo pretends her racing heart is because of whatever she drank. 

“Just one vial of blood,” Takemi says, smile sly. Sadayo swallows, nodding. 

Takemi rips open the little packet for an alcohol wipe. Her long fingers bring it down to Sadayo's skin, brushing the cold cloth over the crook of her elbow. Takemi slips the needle out from the packaging, holding it up for inspection. The metal glints in the light. Sadayo takes a deep breath. 

Sadayo barely notices the needle slip under her skin. It's just a tiny prick, a tiny push. Then Takemi smirks, shifts her grip, and Sadayo watches red flow into the vial.

The doctor caps the vial, and sets it into a stand. She turns back to Sadayo with dark eyes. 

“Is there anything else you need to check?” Sadayo can hardly breathe. It's not the drugs.

Slow and deliberate, Takemi moves to stand in front of Sadayo. One warm hand lands on the inside of Sadayo's thigh, then the opposite knee, pushing her legs apart.

Sadayo's pulse thuds in her chest, her neck, between her legs. She can't think. The scent of medicine invades her nose, and heat ripples through her. She can see Takemi's blown out pupils, the shine of her teeth in the low office light.

“Might be good to record response time.” Takemi fits herself between Sadayo's thighs. Her breath ghosts out hot over Sadayo's lips, her mouth so close Sadayo can almost taste it. “Bloodflow.”

“Whatever Mistress wants.”

There's a moment in which Takemi stills, both of them frozen in the moment. Then the doctor pulls away, hands sliding into her pockets. 

“Maybe next time,” Takemi says, voice back to businesslike. 

Sadayo wheezes out a breath, pressing her knees together tightly. She knows she fucked this up, can feel the change like a wrong note in a symphony, a stuttered step during a dance. She doesn't know exactly what would have happened next if she hadn't inadvertently reminded Takemi she's being paid to be here, but she knows it wouldn't have been both Takemi and Akira politely waiting for her to leave. 

She leaves with her heartbeat still thudding between her legs.

[*]

Sadayo doesn’t think she’ll get another call, but she does. And another after that. Twice, Takemi drugs her, lets her sleep on the examining table, and takes blood with eyes sharper than her scalpel. Akira watches every time, glasses opaque with reflected light, and Sadyo goes home with her pulse aching between her legs.

Takemi doesn’t touch her the same way again. There is no hand on Sadayo’s knee, no slender body pushing between her thighs.

“Is there…” Sadayo’s voice breaks with nervousness. It's the third time since she fucked up, and she's managed to gather her courage to ask. She clears her throat, pretending she can’t see the pair of knowing gazes on her. “Is there anything else you need to check?”

Takemi tilts her head. “There might be. I couldn’t possibly ask it of a paid respondent, however.”

Sadayo’s breath flutters in her chest. “Do you do home visits, Doctor? I might be feeling a little under the weather.”

A chuckle, faintly echoed by Akira. “No, I don’t.” Sadayo starts to deflate. “However I do, on rare occasion, take patients at my home.”

The doctor reaches for a prescription pad, ink flowing out in crisp, brief strokes. She rips off the paper and hands it to Sadayo. It’s an address.

“Next weekend, if you’re interested in a free examination.”

“I’ll be there,” Sadayo says, licking her lips.

A more genuine smile spreads across Takemi’s face. “Good. I look forward to it.”

This time, Akira accompanies her on the way out. He can’t do the annoying glasses thing when there’s no direct light, so she can actually see his eyes for once.

It’s ridiculous to attribute so much social savvy to a sixteen year-old boy, but Sadayo can’t shake the feeling he set this up somehow.

“You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?” She accuses.

“Who, me?” At a look from her, he drops the bullshit innocence, shrugging. “I thought she’d just make you get more sleep. Getting to watch her seduce you was a nice surprise.”

She snorts. “You could have warned me.”

He laughs. “You wouldn’t have come.”

The company car turns the corner, and Sadayo sighs, more amused than put upon. “That’s still mean.”

Akira snorts, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t get to be there for your ‘free exam’. Let me live.”

He watches her get into the car, and she waves goodbye with one hand while clearing her schedule with the other. She can afford to take a few days off, after all, and she’s been _so tired_ lately. She could use some medical attention.

(The next weekend, Takemi pronounces her exhaustion “critical” and prescribes three orgasms delivered orally. Sadayo sleeps twelve fucking hours, and wakes up feeling like a million bucks.)


End file.
